


Who You Are, What You Are

by Space_Cadet_Blues



Series: Blood and Stone [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mage Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Romance, Werewolf Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_Blues/pseuds/Space_Cadet_Blues
Summary: On the full moon Hank is taken by mysterious individuals. Connor does everything in his power to get him back.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Blood and Stone [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582276
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Who You Are, What You Are

Connor can feel Hank’s presence, can hear the terrible goings on happening deep underground as he marches across the clearing closer to the stone building that sits in the centre. The sorrow emanating from this place, the intensity of it rends Connor’s heart in two. He focuses on it, draws on it to fuel the anger burning in his blood.

The guards are also sorcerers and although they run readily to engage him and manage to throw up a few decent deflective spells to parry his initial attacks, they eventually resort to the use of weapons. Connor summons a very particular sword from his collection. The blade is Elven, the handle carved from bone and smoothed to shine, forged to channel magic. He quickly overwhelms his first two opponents and blasts through the heavy wooden front door.

As Connor cuts and blasts his way through the building he begins to realise its purpose. There’s no-one in uniform signalling that it’s attached to the controlling forces of this particular County. Most of the mages appear not to be used to combat and almost every room is filled with vials, restraining devices and tools. It’s some sort of private laboratory.

Connor’s heart is in his throat. Anger giving way slightly to panic. What could they be doing to Hank here in this dreadful place? He pushes the thoughts away and continues on.

 _I’m coming Hank_.

The lowest chambers reveal the macabre nature of the work being done here. Rooms filled with mutilated creatures and cages containing live specimens. The air reeks of chemicals, blood and fear.

Connor encounters only two more mages at the epicentre of the underground labyrinth, a large rectangular stone room lit by torches, he cuts down the first mage and blasts the other into the far wall.

There, in the corner sits a large cage containing a whimpering wolf-like creature laying on its side on the filthy stone floor. Wet blood shines under its front legs matted in the hair of its silver coat and Connor feels as though he can’t breathe.

 _Hank_.

“What did they do to you?” Connor whispers, approaching carefully.

This creature might be Hank but Connor has never been up close to a transformed lycanthrope before.

Hank’s golden eyes slowly open and fix on him, there’s no aggression, he whines.

“Oh Hank.”

Connor suddenly doesn’t care if he is torn to shreds, he needs to get Hank out of there. Connor sticks his hand through the iron bars and hesitates before gently touching Hank’s muzzle, he’s too cold.

“Hank,” Connor says again, voice wavering because he can’t handle the various emotions churning inside of him. 

Hank moves his great head and licks tentatively at Connor’s hand. Rough tongue flicking gently over his palm.

Connor melts with affection, trying to hold himself together. Hank will be okay. He'll get him out and he'll be fine.

There are two hours until morning, he’ll guard Hank and clean him up as best he can and then move him once he transforms back.

Connor breaks the lock on the cage with a flick of his wrist and enters slowly, sitting so that he can pull Hank’s head into his lap. He strokes the soft fur behind his ears and over his shoulders, and then to his ribs, sparking magic into his fingertips and then into Hank’s body to heal him. Its not long before he runs low on power but it’s enough to keep Hank stable for now.

***

When Hank wakes he's somewhere soft and _warm_ , buried under thick blankets. He can smell burning wood from a nearby fire along with a scent he's so fond of that he'd call his affinity for it an addiction.

His eyes are sore, lids heavy with exhaustion but he cracks them open because he has to see him.

Hank is in a bed in some fancy Inn by the looks of the room. A fire crackles in a great stone fireplace off somewhere to the right, out of his vision.

To his left sits Connor, _his_ Connor, slumped in a dead sleep in a plush chair at the bedside, arms folded over his chest which rises and falls gently. He looks dishevelled. Mud speckles his, face and his clothes which are torn and ragged in places. Hank can see blotches of blood here and there. Can smell the iron tang of it too.

Hank’s heart clenches. _What the hell happened?_

He sifts through foggy memories.

He’d left Connor while he slept to transform. And then... A cold stone floor. Sharp agonising pain... Burning. Several pairs of eyes looking at him in the way that he hates the most. Like he’s not human. Like he doesn't deserve to be alive. Then... Flashes of green and red. _Connor_.

He’d been taken to some sort of experimental laboratory, and Connor had found him. He’d saved him.

Hank attempts to ease himself into a sitting position but a sharp pain around his ribs stops him short. He collapses back, cursing sharply, body feeling like a sack of rubble.

“Hey, try not to move. I’ve gotta recharge before I heal you.”

Hank opens his eyes from pinching them shut and meets Connor’s tired gaze.

“Connor,” Hank says hoarsely, he hopes he isn’t still back at that dreadful facility, imagining this in his dying moments.

Connor looks suddenly relieved, and when he reaches out to gently touch Hank’s cheek Hank knows this is real.

“How did you?-“

“Not now, later. You need to rest,” Connor says with no room for argument.

Connor’s hand leaves his cheek and Hank sinks down onto the soft mattress. He closes his eyes because he can’t look at Connor as he asks: “You know then?”

To his surprise Connor snorts a soft laugh.

“You really are an idiot Hank.”

***

When Hank wakes again he feels better but still sluggish. His body naturally heals fast but there’s still a bone deep ache in his ribs.

The sound of sloshing water grabs his attention and he glances over to the centre of the room.

Connor stands, lifting himself out of a tin bath and grabbing a towel from a nearby chair, hot water steaming from his skin.

Hank swallows hard, pointedly averting his eyes.

“Feeling better?” Connor asks, wrapping the towel around his waist. There’s soft amusement in his voice.

“Yep. Yep much better.”

Connor approaches him, smelling of flowers and warm spice. His damp hair curls slightly as it dries and Hank can now see he is mostly unscathed. Just a few shallow cuts here and there. Hank guesses that the blood he was covered in wasn’t his own.

Connor gently peels back the sheets and with a wave of his hand the bandages around Hank’s midsection come loose and slide away.

Hank glances down to see angry purple-black bruising.

“Ouch.”

“No shit.”

Hank laughs and then winces.

“Sorry,” Connor says sheepishly.

His gentle fingers press ever so carefully to Hank’s injuries and Hank feels the warmth of Connor’s magic as it seeps into his body, repairing cracked ribs and soft tissue.

Connor stops once most of the damage has been undone, breathing a little heavier.

“Thank you,” Hank breathes, feeling a little light headed.

“You’re welcome.”

Hank studies him. He still looks exhausted.

“Come on,” Hank says, patting the bed beside him. “You look like you’re about to drop.”

Connor flicks his fingers drying the damp from his body before dropping the towel and crawling under the covers. He tucks himself against Hank’s side and Hank feels eternally grateful to have the chance to have him in his arms again.

Hank runs his fingers through Connor’s silky soft curls and Connor gives a contented sigh. Then Hank feels him shake under his hand.

“Hey, Con?”

Connor buries his face in Hank’s chest, tears falling onto Hank’s skin.

“Hey, hey shh. You’re alright, we’re alright.”

Hank only has an idea of what Connor went through to get him back. He was outnumbered and the kind of energy he would of had to pull from himself would have been immense.

Hank tilts Connor’s face up to look at him and brushes away his tears. Before Connor can get embarrassed and pull away Hank kisses him softly. He can’t take back the things that Connor felt he had to do to bring them together again but he can ease the pain of it. Just like Connor eases his pain.

They doze in and out of sleep, warm and comfortable. When they wake for the final time Connor draws patterns on Hank’s skin with his fingertips until Hank captures his hand and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“Can’t believe you thought you could hide something like that from me,” Connor says, and Hank flushes at the suddenness of being confronted.

Yes. He supposes. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew Connor would figure things out sooner rather than later.

“Do you know, when it rains, you smell of wet dog.”

“I do not!” Hank splutters, flushing to the tips of his ears.

Connor laughs, breath tickling Hank’s neck. “I’m kidding.”

“You’re a nightmare,” Hank groans. Not sounding very put out at all.

“Thanks.”

Connor leans up and kisses him. It’s brief and soft and there’s something tender to it. Connor leans back to look at him and Hank catches the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Are you still in pain?” Connor asks.

Hank shifts a little and prods at where his injuries were. A tiny bit sore but other than that, all healed up.

“I’m alright. You fixed me up good.”

Connor smiles before his face pinches into a more serious look.

“Hank, I...”

“Yeah?”

Connor doesn’t continue. But his silence seems to speak to Hank all the same.

“Kiss me,” he says instead.

Hank lets him get away with not vocalising his feelings for now.

He lays a large hand at the back of Connor’s neck and pulls him into a kiss, this time a little less chaste. Connor laughs into his mouth before breaking away.

“What?”

“You just, really thought you were super secretive. Like I wasn’t going to notice you _smelling_ me, _guarding_ me and uh, I don’t know, _disappearing_ on _every_ full moon.”

Hank feels his cheeks growing warm again.

“Idiot,” Connor says fondly and kisses him. "Promise me you won't disappear again," he whispers against Hank's lips.

Hank can't quite tell if he can hear a note of worry in his voice. 

"I promise," Hank says, even if it's something he doesn't have control over it's still a promise he intends to keep. 


End file.
